


This Is My Game (And You Better Come To Play)

by itsacoup



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Service Top, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsacoup/pseuds/itsacoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Zhenya, Sid reflects, is the most cat-like human being Sid has ever met. Sometimes he can hardly stand to be in the same room as Sid, flitting in and out without so much as a hello, thoughtlessly snubbing Sid as he goes about his own mysterious business. And sometimes, he wants to have every inch of Sid’s attention, demand all of Sid’s effort in an endless string of </i>make me food<i> and </i>rub my back<i> and </i>I’m over here now why you’re not?<i>, or sit on Sid’s lap for eight hours straight-- and by </i>sit on Sid’s lap<i>, well. Zhenya is insatiable when he gets like this. </i></p><p> </p><p>Zhenya has needs. Sid rises to the challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is My Game (And You Better Come To Play)

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the Notoriously Pro-Bottom Geno squad. You know who you are. You know what you’ve done.

Sid wakes slowly in the absence of an alarm. Zhenya is curled tight against his back, snuffling into the pillow above his head as he squints at the clock. The time swims into view-- 8:30 AM on a fine Tuesday morning totally free of any obligation-- as Zhenya’s arms tighten momentarily around Sid’s chest. Sid grunts and elbows Zhenya gently in the side, and Zhenya loosens his hold enough for Sid to slip out of the side of the bed. “Zhenya,” Sid says as he stands, and he gets a snarl and a half-coordinated wave; that’s about as much of a _no_ that Zhenya can muster first thing in the morning, so Sid slides into his slippers and heads downstairs for breakfast alone.

Sid’s phone pings from the island as he’s scrambling eggs, and when he reaches over to unlock it, there waits a text from Zhenya: _bring me breakfast, I’m hungry((((((_ . As Sid stares at the text, lips pursed and debating if he wants to be a pain in the ass or not, another one pops up: _pancakes with good syrup, chop chop._

Zhenya, Sid reflects, is the most cat-like human being Sid has ever met. Sometimes he can hardly stand to be in the same room as Sid, flitting in and out without so much as a hello, thoughtlessly snubbing Sid as he goes about his own mysterious business. And sometimes, he wants to have every inch of Sid’s attention, demand all of Sid’s effort in an endless string of _make me food_ and r _ub my back_ and _I’m over here now why you’re not?_ , or sit on Sid’s lap for eight hours straight-- and by _sit on Sid’s lap_ , well. Zhenya is insatiable when he gets like this.

 _coming right up_ , Sid texts back. As he pulls out flour and baking soda and digs in the fridge for milk in between taking bites of eggs, his stomach thrills with the challenge. Zhenya is _nothing_ but challenge when he wants to be spoiled, pushing Sid harder and farther for his own pleasure. Of course Sid gets there in the end too, because even in his moods Zhenya isn’t that selfish, but Sid has to work for every second of it, and he does loves earning his due.

Sid puts together a tidy stack of three pancakes, arrayed as artfully as he can manage on a plate with bacon and fruit. The warmed syrup goes in a ramekin on the side so that Zhenya can dip his pancakes in it instead of letting them grow soggy on the plate.

 

(Sid learned that Zhenya hates syrup on his pancakes the first time he makes pancakes for them, when they were two seasons into being Penguins together and just beginning to feel out the edges of something that resonates between them. “How are they?” he’d asked, overeager, and Zhenya nodded emphatically, cheeks as full as a chipmunk’s with pancakes. Zhenya downed his portion with terrifying speed, and Sid went to stand, said, “jeez, didn’t know you were that hungry, G! Let me make some more.”

“No, it’s okay,” Zhenya said hurriedly. “It’s just-- I’m hate wet pancake, you know? So I’m eat fast before they’re weird. But they’re good, you know? I’m like anyway, thank you.”

“Oh,” Sid says. The next time he made Zhenya pancakes, he heated the syrup and poured it into a cup on the side. Zhenya’s smile as he hacked off a slice of pancake and jammed it in the cup was sweeter than Sid’s own serving of pancakes.)

 

They have a breakfast-in-bed tray just for days like these, and Sid balances on his toes to reach its hiding place in an upper cabinet. On it goes the plate, a cup of orange juice, a glass of water, and silverware; Sid bemoans the lack of flowers, but the landscaper just annihilated his flower beds in favor of some kind of avant-garde moss garden, so there’s nothing for it.

Zhenya is propped up expectantly against the headboard when Sid pushes the bedroom door open with his foot. “Give it,” he demands immediately, reaching out both hands, and Sid huffs but obediently settles the tray over Zhenya’s lap. He hasn’t even let go by the time Zhenya picks up his fork and knife, slicing eagerly into the pancakes.

Sid loops around the bed, mindlessly grabbing at Zhenya’s foot and giving it a shake as he passes it before curling up on his side of the bed and leaning against Zhenya’s arm. As Zhenya demolishes his breakfast, Sid grumbles, “I’ve got to talk to Bryan. I hate all that damn moss in the backyard, he needs to bring my flowers back.”

“Breakfast okay without flowers,” Zhenya says peaceably, licking a dribble of syrup from his bottom lip. Sid perversely feels even more irritated because Zhenya clearly noticed their absence.

“ _I'_ _m_ not okay without flowers,” Sid says. “And it looks terrible, I hate it. I think I’m going to tell him to put in sunflowers.”

“You’re not like sunflowers, you’re just want to be mean to landscaper. I’m like moss anyway, looks nice to lie on.”

“You look nice to lie on,” Sid says, turning his face into Zhenya’s arm as Zhenya laughs. “Anyway, I think I’ll call Bryan today, and then the movie room is a mess so I might as well clean that and the downstairs bathroom.”

“No,” Zhenya says immediately. “You’re sit on couch with me and watch TV. I’m catch up on my shows.”

“Which shows?” Sid says. He’s suspicious of all of the shows Zhenya watches in Russian because he’s fairly sure they’re all terrible, though he’s still far too stumbling in the language to understand the majority of it anyway.

“Bachelor,” Zhenya says with relish, and Sid groans.

“You have shitty taste in TV,” Sid says. “We’re not watching that.”

They watch it. Sid, in protest, sits on the far end of the sectional, at least until Zhenya’s incessant staring draws him reluctantly nearer. Zhenya grabs Sid by the shoulders, pushing him down flat on the couch and draping himself carefully over Sid. The inane flirting on the TV seems a little less terrible with the heavy weight of Zhenya anchoring him to the couch, and Sid half-dozes as he thinks about line combinations for next year.

“Sid,” Zhenya says, an episode and a half later. “Sid, I’m hungry.” Zhenya turns his face into Sid’s neck, and Sid can feel him pouting as he mouths kisses along the tender skin underneath Sid’s jaw.

“You have to get off of me if you want food,” Sid says-- not that he particularly wants Zhenya to move, but needs must, and all. Sid shivers as Zhenya rolls off him, standing and watching as Zhenya rolls right back into the warm spot. Cat, indeed.

Sid puts together a snack meticulously, arranging slices of apples and pears and cheese and prosciutto on a cutting board until it almost halfway looks like he knows what he’s doing. Zhenya brightens as he sees the board and the cans of the weird sparkling water he likes, and he sits up and pats at the corner of the sectional next to him. Sid takes the spot, holding everything out of the way as Zhenya drags Sid’s legs up onto the sectional and tucks himself between them, leaning back against Sid’s chest with a heavy sigh.

“Comfy?” Sid asks, and Zhenya hums affirmatively, so Sid places the board on Zhenya’s lap. He’s not surprised when Zhenya opens his mouth expectantly, eyes fixed on the TV, and Sid hooks his chin over Zhenya’s shoulder so he can see as he picks up an apple slice and a piece of cheddar and feeds it to Zhenya. Sid alternates feeding himself and Zhenya, occasionally dragging his thumb across Zhenya’s lower lip or pressing his fingertip down on Zhenya’s tongue as he places the food in Zhenya’s mouth. Sid watches from the corner of his eye as Zhenya’s eyes grow dark and breath comes quicker, teasing until Zhenya starts to shift against him and then dialing it back. Zhenya pretends to ignore him, staring determinedly at the TV, but they both know better.

It’s barely an hour after they set aside the empty board when Zhenya whines again for food. Lunch is a circus; Zhenya trails Sid into the kitchen and gets in the way at every possible second under the pretense of helping. Somehow, pasta and chicken and vegetables turn into something edible, though Sid isn’t quite sure exactly how he avoids burning anything. Every time he turns around, Zhenya is edging in Sid’s space, nuzzling Sid’s neck and running his hands all over Sid’s body. They eat tucked together in the nook, legs tangled together as they idly argue again over which guest rooms will become more permanent rooms in the future and whether or not it’s too depressing to paint a baby’s room grey. _No, even grey like ice is sad, Sid, bad for baby. Need happy colors, like yellow or blue_.

Sid trails off after diverting from baby room colors to rambling on about cribs vs co-sleeping. “Suck me off,” Zhenya says abruptly into the silence.

Chills race down Sid’s body, and he swallows heavily before saying, “Here? Or upstairs?” He can feel the impatient twitching of Zhenya’s foot against his calf as Zhenya tips his head consideringly. “Bedroom,” Zhenya says decisively. “I’m not want anything distract you from me.”

They’re only just inside the bedroom door when Zhenya stops. “Too many clothes,” he says, and Sid can’t help but roll his eyes.

“What, was I supposed to try and take your pants off while you were walking?” he says, prodding at Zhenya’s stomach. “Not that I would mind, it’d be funny to watch you eat shit.”

“So mean,” Zhenya says. “Maybe I’m not let you blow me if you’re mean.”

“Whatever you want,” Sid says, deliberately unruffled, trying not to smirk as Zhenya’s expression morphs from crafty to grumpy. After seven years together, it's too easy for either of them to push the other’s buttons; to be fair, though, it’s also not difficult to goad either of them into a petty argument in general. He forestalls the coming fight by grabbing the hem of Zhenya’s shirt and pulling up, running his hands carefully back down Zhenya’s body after he drops the shirt. It’s a thoughtless habit, checking him for bruises or lumps because he likes to hide them from Sid during the season until it’s too late. Sid slides around him, letting his hand skim across Zhenya’s flank and then up his back. All is well; the offseason rarely inspires injury, but Sid’s heart still settles a little as he feels the smoothness of Zhenya’s back and sees unblemished skin.

Satisfied, Sid tugs at the waistband of Zhenya’s sweats, kneeling to bring them to the floor and wrapping his fingers gently around each ankle to lift each foot out of the leg. He’s not wearing anything under the sweats-- typical-- and the temptation to leap up, tackle him onto the bed, and blow his mind and his dick is strong, but Sid forces himself to hesitate, to savor the moment. The long, winding scar on Zhenya’s knee catches Sid’s eye, and Sid leans in, mouthing butterfly-light kisses up and down its length.

“Sidya,” Zhenya says. His voice is already dropping, curling roughly around Sid’s nickname, and an anticipatory shudder crawls through Sid. “I’m tell you to blow me, yes?”

“Yup,” Sid says, popping the p as he stands. “And remember what happened the last time I got impatient and tried to blow you through your pants?”

“It’s happen again unless you start kiss dick instead of knee,” Zhenya says. He turns and walks towards the bed, planting himself firmly on the edge and spreading his knees pointedly. His dick hangs heavily between his legs, starting to firm up, and Sid unconsciously licks his lips as he stares at it. “Kiss it nice,” Zhenya says, and Sid walks forward and falls to his knees, bracing himself on Zhenya’s thighs as he lavishes open-mouthed kisses on Zhenya’s crown and shaft and balls. He can’t resist the allure of really blowing Zhenya for long, though, and Sid’s cock swells from the sensual delight of wrapping his lips around Zhenya's dick and pushing himself down again and again until Zhenya bites off a gasp.

Sid has worked up a healthy rhythm, heel of his hand pressed against his own cock and eyes squeezed shut in contemplative focus, when Zhenya places his hand on Sid’s head. “Up, on bed,” Zhenya says as he pulls back from Sid’s questing mouth. By the time Sid clears the haze from his head and climbs on the bed, Zhenya is sprawled on his stomach with the lube propped next to his hip. The message is clear, and Sid doesn’t hesitate to start, popping the lube and rubbing a healthy amount between his hands to warm it.

Zhenya takes two fingers right away, greedy for the stretch of Sid’s fingers; Sid is equally greedy for the clench of Zhenya’s ass around the fingers of one hand and the plump roundness of Zhenya’s cheeks under the other. Here is the one place that Zhenya doesn’t have to tell Sid what to do, because Sid knows how Zhenya always likes to be prepped, quick and effective, the tease of Sid’s thumb on the rim of his hole contrasting with the quick strokes of Sid’s fingers inside. The sweet arch of Zhenya’s back is soft and relaxed as Sid works him open, three fingers and then the barest squeeze of four. Zhenya’s feet twitch every time Sid’s fingers brush his prostate just right, and it’s just as hopelessly endearing to Sid as it was the first time he felt the flex of Zhenya’s toes against his side.

“Tease,” Zhenya says, because he’s reached the point where he doesn’t fuck around with sentences when a word will do. “Fuck me, Sid.”

“Whatever you want,” Sid says, and it’s unexpectedly raw, surprisingly honest. Zhenya turns his head enough to catch Sid’s eye and give him a sweet smile, and Sid smiles back helplessly. They pause in that moment together, where they don’t need words to say what they need to-- _I love you, I’d do anything for you, I’m something better now that I have you_.

Zhenya breaks it with an impatient wriggle of his ass. “Hurry up,” he says, and Sid shakes his head as he slicks himself up and slides to lie over Zhenya, lining up and pushing in with slow, gentle rocks. Sid sinks all the way in, breathing in deep and exhaling with a whoosh once he’s settled. Before Zhenya can complain, he pulls back, returning with a brutal push, and Zhenya moans as Sid starts a rhythm.

“Faster,” Zhenya commands, and Sid shifts to brace himself on his elbows, snapping his hips and biting out rough exhalations in tandem with the flat slap of his balls against Zhenya’s ass. “No, no, slower,” Zhenya huffs out between thrusts, and Sid hangs on, gritting his teeth, tries not to groan as he slows down. “Yes, like that,” Zhenya finally approves, and Sid lets his head drop down between his shoulders as he focuses, the world narrowing to scattered sensation as he tries to stave off his orgasm. If he comes before Zhenya-- well, Zhenya won’t be _disappointed_ , because he’ll get his in various, creative ways today, but Sid will be. He wants to be perfect for Zhenya, and that’s the only thought that keeps him going.

Finally Zhenya moans low and long as he spasms around Sid, and Sid drives his cock in deep as he lets himself come. He manages to pull out before collapsing to the side, eyes closed as he pants into the comforter and tries to remember if he’s supposed to feel like he’s made of jelly. He’s barely regained his vision when Zhenya shifts, drawing his leg out from under Sid and saying contemplatively, “Okay, now vibrator.”

Sid groans into the fabric underneath him before flopping onto his back. “Five more minutes?” he begs, flexing his hands as he tries to regain feeling in his fingers. There are little half-moons still buried into his palms from clenching his fists so tightly against the force of his orgasm.

“Nope, right now,” Zhenya says, sounding entirely too awake for having just come spectacularly. Sid gathers his knees and elbows under him and manages to flop up the bed, stretching out to dig around in Zhenya’s nightstand drawer with the absolute minimum of movement required. He pulls out two different dildos before he manages to snag a bullet vibe, but when he tosses it on the bed, Zhenya tuts. “Want my favorite, not that one,” he says, and Sid grumbles but returns it, pulling himself up onto his elbows so that he can see into the drawer and grab the right one. It’s longer than the bullet, silicone and insertable, but most importantly, it’s black and gold.

 

(When they had bought the vibrator, Sid survived a mortifying two weeks in which he popped a stiffie every time he saw anything black and gold, from the Pens-branded calendar hanging on their fridge to practice jerseys to Steelers games. Sid had to put his foot down after a particularly memorable post-game locker room shenanigan that ended with him having a face-full of Zhenya’s jersey, black and gold and smelling almost suffocatingly strong of Zhenya’s sweat. Unsurprisingly, the resultant boner was impossible to hide in the compression pants he’d stripped down to.

“Look how much Sid loves winning! 'Atta boy!” hooted Duper, and Zhenya spent the next week and a half creatively apologizing to Sid, until Sid couldn’t fake a scowl any longer.)

 

Sid gathers his wits as he turns back to Zhenya with the vibrator in hand. Zhenya’s sprawled comfortably against the headboard, dick lax against his thigh and lips curled in a smug smile. His eyes travel slowly up Sid’s body, from blatantly staring at his ass to challenging him with a direct look, a quirked eyebrow, and a smirk. Sid answers the challenge by flicking the vibrator on, the low hum filling the quiet space between them.

Sid straddles Zhenya’s thighs and leans forward, looping an arm around Zhenya’s shoulders to brace himself as he leans in for a kiss. This part is all for him; he craves reassurance and Zhenya gives it to him, every press of his lips showing Sid his approval and acceptance. Sid only comes back to himself as his fingers begin to tingle from where he grips the vibrator, and he pulls back reluctantly. Zhenya lifts a hand, cradling it around Sid’s cheek as he leans forward to take one last kiss, hot and open-mouthed and utterly dominant.

“Jeez,” Sid says, dazed, and Zhenya laughs at him. In revenge, Sid presses the vibrator against his left nipple, crowing as Zhenya moans. He drags the vibrator all over Zhenya’s body, pausing when a muscle twitches in his jaw or his eyelashes flutter from the sensation. Slowly, Zhenya’s cock stirs, reddening and growing under Sid’s attention. He drags the vibrator down Zhenya’s chest, pausing just above the base of Zhenya’s cock until Zhenya growls at him. Sid pulls the vibrator around Zhenya’s cock, down the tender inside of his thigh, and tucks it behind his balls. Zhenya goes loose, mouth dropping open as the vibrator pulses against his prostate, and Sid can’t tear his eyes away, can’t stop reveling in what he’s done to Zhenya.

Soon enough, Zhenya is shifting restlessly under Sid, legs trying to fall open wider under the weight of Sid’s thighs, abs showing up in greater relief as Zhenya tenses and tries to arch. “What do you want?” Sid murmurs, pressing the vibrator tight against the underside of the head of Zhenya’s cock. At some point, Sid had found his second wind, his own dick firming up and dripping over the sight of Zhenya soaking in his own pleasure.

“Sit on your dick,” Zhenya says, following it with a string of Russian from which Sid can only pick out _beautiful_ and _want_ and _full_. Sid rolls off of Zhenya obligingly, picking up his own pillow and shoving it behind his back as he settles against the headboard. Zhenya is on him in a flash, gripping his dick and sinking down on it, taking the full length in one smooth drop. Sid’s head thunks as it hits the headboard, and Zhenya hisses, leaning forward to curl his hand around the back of Sid’s head. “No,” he says, scolding. “Bad for head. Must put-- put to good use.” He pulls Sid forward gently, until Sid’s lips meet his nipple and Sid latches on, sucking and nibbling as he tries to thrust up into Zhenya.

Zhenya lets his knees go out from under him, landing hard on Sid’s dick, and Sid whimpers. “Stay _still_ ,” Zhenya says, and Sid nips hard at the skin around Zhenya’s nipple in his petulance, but Zhenya just sighs harshly and says, “yes, good.”

Sid remembers himself just in time to ask, “can I leave marks?” pressing the words deep into Zhenya’s skin. Zhenya grabs his head again, pushes him in until his teeth catch sharply against skin, and growls, “if you’re not, _big_ trouble.”

The vibrator rumbles between them as Sid sucks dark, fat hickeys around Zhenya’s nipples, decorating one and then the other to distract himself from the torture of Zhenya sitting unmoving on his cock. Occasionally, the vibrator brushes teasingly across Sid’s stomach as Zhenya works it up and down the length of his dick, but more distracting is the way his ass clenches spasmodically around Sid’s dick, over and over as Zhenya uses Sid’s body to fulfill his desires.

It’s too much. Sid lets out a sob, pressing his forehead against the strength of Zhenya’s shoulder as he tries to wrestle down the pleasure flooding him. “Ssssh,” Zhenya soothes, voice strained as he shifts carefully on Sid’s dick. “So good, just little bit more, okay?”

“Okay,” Sid gasps, tipping his head further so he can watch Zhenya’s clever hand drag the vibrator down the underside of his cock, pausing at the base against his sack, and then back up to the sweet spot under the head. Every breath burns as Sid drags it in, the air thick with the smell of sex and Zhenya, and it pools in his lungs and twists Sid tighter, closer to coming. Sid grips Zhenya’s ass, trying to pull Zhenya further down on his dick, desperate for anything that will make Zhenya come. Sid drives his hips up just as Zhenya slides the vibrator down behind his balls again, and Zhenya yells, coming messily across Sid’s stomach. Sid leans back, swallowing dryly as he catches sight of the hickeys around Zhenya’s nipples, and he opens his mouth to pant helplessly. Zhenya takes the advantage, sliding a finger coated in his come between Sid’s lips, and Sid sucks it clean before his orgasm takes him out, blanking Sid’s mind and every sense with its power.

Zhenya’s weight disappears while Sid is still trapped in oblivion, and without Zhenya keeping him upright Sid slides bonelessly down the bed, starfishing in his exhaustion.

“Sid. Sidya. _Sid_ ,” Zhenya says insistently, and Sid says, “God, no more, _please._ ”

“Just want cuddle,” Zhenya says persuasively, and Sid lets him tug at his limbs until they’re curled together, Zhenya so big and warm against Sid’s back. “You’re do so good, Sid,” he whispers into Sid’s ear, and Sid laughs breathily.

“Didn’t I say no more?” Sid asks, even as something warm and contented lights up in his chest.

“Make sure you know you’re good, I’m not start anything,” Zhenya says. “You’re so good and I’m love you so much.” As he says it, Zhenya nuzzles into the secret place behind Sid’s ear, the point where he starts to flush when he’s embarrassed or aroused.

“Love you too,” Sid says muzzily, reaching to capture Zhenya’s hand with his own and weave their fingers together. “Now let me nap before you torture me any more, okay?”

“Just little nap, have lots more ideas,” Zhenya says, and Sid halfheartedly elbows him in the side before passing out cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi at [tumblr](http://itsacoup.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (And yes, the [black and gold vibrator](http://www.ovo.de/en/product/f8-black) mentioned does exist.)


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